The Weight Of Blood

Viole's breath came in short, ragged bursts. He could feel it now—an itch deep inside his chest, gnawing at his ribs like a beast trying to claw its way out. The Hunger, that thing that had awoken within him, was silent, but its presence was heavy, suffocating.

He gripped his sword tighter, though it was no longer a comfort. The weight of it seemed insignificant compared to the gnawing void that stretched inside him. Every movement felt sluggish, as if he were swimming through thick, oppressive air. He felt as though the very earth beneath him was pulling him down, dragging him into some unseen abyss.

Ha-eun approached him, her eyes narrowed with concern, but she said nothing. Her posture was tense, as though she could feel the change in him, too.

"You're not yourself," she said quietly, her voice laced with hesitation.

Viole didn't meet her gaze. He couldn't. He feared she would see the truth—the part of him that had changed irrevocably. The part of him that belonged to the Hunger.

"I'm fine," he lied, his voice distant. He was doing it again—lying to everyone. To Ha-eun, to himself. But it was the only way to keep them from knowing.

Ha-eun didn't press. She didn't need to. Viole could feel the weight of her scrutiny, but he didn't want her to see the truth. He barely wanted to see it himself. The Hunger was not just something inside him—it was becoming him, piece by piece. The beast inside was clawing at the surface, and no matter how much he fought, he could feel it breaking through the cracks.

The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating.

Kairos, ever the opportunist, broke the tension. His voice rang out, light and casual, but Viole could hear the underlying concern in it. "So… what now, Azael?"

Azael, who had been standing in the shadows, their face still hidden beneath the hood, turned to Kairos. "Now, we prepare."

Viole glanced up at them, unable to ignore the cold, calculating look in their eyes.

"We're not done," Azael continued, their voice unwavering. "What we faced tonight was only a precursor. The real threat is coming."

Viole's stomach tightened at the words. What threat? What could possibly be worse than what they had just encountered? He could still feel the phantom sensation of the Hunger stirring inside him, pressing against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

"What threat?" he asked, unable to mask the fear creeping into his voice.

Azael stepped forward, their gaze flickering briefly to Viole, but their focus was mainly on the group. "The Hunger. The thing inside you. It is not just a creature. It's an infection—an ancient force that spreads through the bloodline. It has been dormant for centuries, but it is awakening now, and it will not stop until it consumes everything. And you—" Azael's eyes returned to Viole, their voice low and almost… pitying. "You are the key."

Viole felt the blood drain from his face. He wanted to scream at Azael to stop, to tell them that they were wrong, that they had no idea what they were talking about. But he couldn't. His body was frozen, his heart racing. The Hunger. It was inside him, a part of him. He had always known there was something wrong with him, but now… now it was undeniable.

"So, what do we do?" Ha-eun's voice cut through the tension, sharp and demanding. "How do we stop it?"

Azael paused, their face shadowed beneath their hood. "You will face it. You will either control it, or it will consume you."

Viole didn't respond. What could he say? How could he possibly face something so ancient—something that had been sleeping in his veins for as long as he could remember?

Ha-eun stepped closer to Viole, her hand resting on his shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort. "But how can we fight something like that?" Her voice was softer now, less sure.

Azael's gaze softened—just a fraction, but it was enough for Viole to see the weight of the responsibility that rested on their shoulders. "You don't need to fight it, Ha-eun. You just need to survive long enough for Viole to face his demons."

The quiet that followed was suffocating. Viole felt every word like a punch to the gut. His demons. He didn't know if he was strong enough to face them. The Hunger wasn't something he could control. It had been buried deep within him for years, but now it was awake, and it would only grow stronger.

He wanted to scream, to throw his sword at Azael and demand answers. But he didn't. He couldn't.

"I've never been good at fighting my demons," Viole muttered under his breath. His voice was hoarse, filled with a bitterness that surprised even him.

Azael's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Then maybe it's time you learned."

The words stung more than he expected. They weren't just a challenge; they were a warning. Azael was right. He couldn't keep running from his past, from the thing inside him. If he wanted to survive this, he would have to confront it.

But how? How could he possibly face something so much darker than himself? The Hunger wasn't a mere enemy. It was inside him.

"I don't want to do this," Viole whispered, barely audible.

Azael stepped closer, their voice steady. "You don't have a choice, Viole. The world depends on it."

The weight of those words settled on him, pressing him down. He had always fought to survive, to protect those he cared about, but this—this was something different. He wasn't just fighting for his own life anymore.

He was fighting for everyone.

The Hunger inside him stirred again, as though it could hear his thoughts. But Viole swallowed his fear, clenched his fists, and made a silent promise to himself. He wouldn't let it consume him. He would control it—he had to.

"I'll face it," he said, his voice rough but firm. "I'll fight it."

Azael gave him a knowing look, one that spoke of ancient secrets and long-forgotten wars. "We'll help you. But you must be ready. The darkness inside you is waking—and when it does, it won't go quietly."

Viole nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. This was just the beginning. The true battle was only starting. And he had no choice but to face it.

They didn't speak after that. The weight of their task was enough. They all knew what had to be done. But for the first time in a long time, Viole wasn't sure he was ready.

He had to be. There was no other option.